


Death is not the End

by CarvcrEdlund



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Missing Scene, apprentice reader, marril96, request, season finale fix-it, witch reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 03:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11569725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarvcrEdlund/pseuds/CarvcrEdlund
Summary: Request: hurt/comfort. Reader and Rowena are dating and reader takes care of Rowena after she gets injured, and she is being stubborn about it, but eventually gives in and accepts the help?Female Reader, Bisexual Reader, Rowena Whump.





	Death is not the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marrilyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/gifts).



> [Click here for a link that will take you to an extension for Chrome that replaces Y/N and other reader-insert placeholders with the name you enter. Enjoy!](https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/interactivefics/pcpjpdomcbnlkbghmchnjgeejpdlonli?hl=en)

“Hey, Red.”

Rowena felt a chill run down her spine when she heard the voice behind her. She only knew one person who called her that… “You… can’t be here.” The witch turned around to see him, recognizing the man… no, _monster_ that had visited in her dreams so long ago. The one _she_ had released. Alpha, she had called him, and he certainly looked it now. “You’re in the cage, we put you _back_. I did it _myself_ ; you. can’t. be. here.”

He smiled at her, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “Then, this shouldn’t hurt.” He made a swatting motion, and Rowena flew across the expensively decorated room. She had been packing her things when he appeared, ready to leave the home of this massive waste of time.

Rowena wanted out. No more demons, angels, or any of the craziness in between. All she wanted was someone with money and power that she can marry and murder, so she and her beloved Y/N can live as they please.

She should have known it wouldn’t be as easy as just walking away.

Rowena’s head hit the edge of a table, and she saw stars. The red of her own blood mixed with the red of her hair, and she had to blink to regain her focus.

Lucifer was still leaning against the doorframe, with that sick, cocky grin on his face. This was his playing field now, and they both knew it. “Real enough for you?” he asked, tone as cold as ice.

Rowena wasn’t about to just lie down and take it, however. There was very little chance of her winning this… but the chance is absolute zero if she doesn’t fight back. The natural witch lifted her hand and pointed at the archangel, biting out the words of a spell past the pain in her throbbing head.

_“A spioradí an tsaoil, éistigí liom!”_

_“Dóighigí an fear seo!”_

_“Dóighigí go luaithreach é!”_

Lucifer tried to advance on her before she could finish it, but wasn’t quick enough to stop her. A horrible ringing sound erupted around him; only for him. He covered his ears in response, but the action was useless. The sound just grew louder and louder.

It wasn’t enough to stop him however, only slow him down. Rowen got back to her feet, running to her bag to retrieve a hex bag she’s prepared. The spell had only been used on demons… But in her opinion, Lucifer qualifies.

With him momentarily distracted, she tucked the small bag into the pocket of his leather jacket, and practically screamed the words to activate it. _“Defigere Et Depurgare!”_

It had some kind of effect, and Lucifer’s eyes glowed brightly. Red—the colour of wrath and agony. She’d barely registered it before he flung her away again, and this time she crashed into the wall, her shoulder and neck flaring with pain.

The archangel’s wings were out now, visible as dark shadows cast by the light emanating from him. They flapped behind him, a sign of irritation as he fought off the two spells attempting to incapacitate him. His ears were bleeding now, but he seemed to be ignoring that in favour of the second spell, which was attempting to bind his grace and liquefy it. Normally, a demon would be coughing its own essence up at this point, but Lucifer was stronger than that.

As Rowena struggled to get her legs to do her bidding and take her far away from here, Lucifer yanked the hex bag out of his pocket and burned it to a crisp in his hand. There was a stream of something silver-white leaking from the corner of his mouth like blood, but he seemed otherwise unharmed by the ‘bind and purge’ hex. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled, low and dangerous in his rage. He wiped the corner of his lips, and the liquefied grace rolled away like mercury, and then evaporated to nothing.

Rowena glared right back at him, using a table to help herself back to her feet. “Why have you come? You must know I wouldn’t do a bloody thing for you, you miserable _cuck_.”

That only seemed to worsen the devil’s ire, and his eyes flashed again. He could barely hear her over the ringing, but that only made the insult even more irritating. “I’m exterminating a pest. There’s only one thing I want you to do for me, Rowena, and that’s to say hi to your son for me when you join him. Tell him that I only regret not taking more time to make him scream before watching the life drain from him. But, don’t worry… I won’t make the same mistake with you.” His eyes gleamed with malice as he headed for her, the ringing in his ears too loud now for him to possibly hear anything she might say in return. Any human would be dead by now; but not Lucifer. The spell was just an annoyance, and one that would end with Rowena’s life.

The Witch tried to run, then, but it was a futile effort. Lucifer caught her by her hair with the speed of the serpent he is often compared to. He yanked her back to him, with so much force that he actually ripped out a lock of her hair, chunk of scalp attached.

Rowena screamed as he did, losing the strength to stay standing, and falling against him.

As she did, she could hear a thumping sound (though Lucifer couldn’t) from upstairs as the owner of this extravagant woke up and ran down to see what was going on. He showed up at the base of the stairs in just his boxers, a shotgun in his hands (these Texans and their guns). Seeing the, admittedly terrifying sight in front of him—a strange man bleeding from his ears, holding his mistress up by her hair—He didn’t hesitate to fire off a shot at Lucifer.

A bullet from such a powerful firearm at that close range would normally blow someone across the room, But Lucifer didn’t even flinch. He barely spared the man a glance before snapping his fingers and breaking his neck. The wound from the shot was healed even before the wealthy man hit the ground.

Rowena teared up, then, not from pain, or sadness; she felt nothing for the man… but from hopelessness. This… this was a fight she could not win. She’d bitten off more than she could chew, this time, and now it was finally coming back to bite her. That palm reader was right all those years ago; Ambition is going to be her downfall. She didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Y/N. The last thing she’d said to the younger witch had been some half-baked insult thrown out in frustration before leaving to try to salvage the relationship she’d made with this man. It hadn’t gone well. He wasn’t pleased to find out his mistress; the woman he’d been considering marrying, was already in a relationship with another woman.

It hadn’t even been intentional, and Rowena regrets being so harsh on the poor thing. She regretted it almost as soon as she’d left. But she had assumed she’d have all the time she needed to make it up to her Apprentice and Lover.

Now… Now she may never have that chance. Lucifer was angry. He would be thorough, this time.

He laughed at her tears, and then used his grip on her hair to smash her face into the black side table. “Aw, are you sad that I killed your boyfriend? That’s adorable, Red.” Her scream this time was more pitiful; cut off by the gargle of blood filling her throat. Her nose had broken from the hit, and if she hadn’t been a creature of magic, she’d be unconscious by now, at the very least.

He dropped her then, tossing the lock of her he’d yanked from her head onto the now blood-splattered table. Lucifer didn’t relent, fury in his every movement. The spell was still affecting him, and he wanted it _gone_. He would kick her face in until it stopped, if that’s what it took.

And he did just that. He drove the heel of his boot into her face ( _combat boots_ and _a leather jacket? Could he_ be _any more of an over-dramatic teen_? Rowena thought hysterically), further shoving her broken nose back into her head. She should be dead, but she isn’t.

Her magic fought for her, making her cling to life even while she was in so much pain she wished she _could_ just die. She no longer moved, staring blankly up at the ceiling as her face was repeatedly stomped on.

She saw nothing, soon. Nothing but red and darkness.

The blows faded from sharp, crushing pain into dull thumps as her consciousness faded.

The last thing Rowena felt was fire. Burning her up; body and soul.

 

* * *

 

 

Rowena should have been back by now. She wasn’t in a good mood when she left this morning… but no matter how upset she’s been with you, she’s always come back before midnight.

You paced in the low-rent apartment’s tiny living room, hand over your mouth in worry. The night before you’d had a bit of a falling out with her, but that was nothing new. You’ve had plenty of minor arguments before, and it’s always been solved quickly enough by some space and ice cream. And make-up-make-out sessions, of course. You were actually looking forward to one tonight. Maybe a little more, since you bought salted caramel ice cream; her favourite.

But here it was, midnight, and Rowena hadn’t come home.

Maybe she’d run into trouble? But if she hadn’t, and you went looking for her, she might get angry with you again for interrupting her while she tried to win over that man. You were by no means strictly into pussy… but he seemed like a pig even by your standards. You shuddered to think of how he treated your teacher, your lover, your Rowena.

Of course, you understood why Rowena was attempting to seduce him, even if you didn’t like or agree with it. ‘Witch’ isn’t exactly a high-paying occupation. Rowena just wanted to get some funding so the two of you could disappear and live as you please, wherever you please.

You just wish she would have consulted you about it, so you hadn’t made that mistake yesterday. You’d just needed help with a spell, and so you went looking for her, and interrupted her during a ‘date’. It had… not been pretty. The rich old man had been disgusted when you called Rowena ‘love’ out of habit.

The fact that Rowena has been gone so long should be a good sign, you told yourself. He must have forgiven her, and they’re… you didn’t much want to think about it.

You couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the whole thing, however, and you were about to go looking for her again, damn the consequences. But you held off, her words from this morning keeping you in your place.

You stayed up, picked at your pint of rocky road before putting it back in the freezer, looking back over the spellbook Rowena had gifted to you when she agreed to take you on as an apprentice—you had it nearly memorized by now—and found ways to kill time while you waited anxiously.

You called her phone nine times, and she didn’t answer even once.

Midnight turned into 1am, to 2am, and eventually to 3am, and still the front door remained shut. Surely she would have at least sent an explanation by text by now, right?

But your phone stayed still and silent on the table the whole night.

You could wait no longer. Pulling a long coat on over your leggings and nightshirt (it was about two sizes too big, and neither you nor Rowena are sure where it came from, but you love wearing it at home), and collecting your phone and keys, you made your way outside, locking the door behind you. You knew where the man lived, as Rowena had come clean with what she did, and where she went during the day, last night. The two of you didn’t have a car, so you hired an Uber to take you to the man’s mansion.

Nothing seemed odd right off the bat. The lights were all off, that you could see. And that made sense, given that it’s 3:30 in the morning. As Rowena would say ‘it’s the wee hours of the day, dearie. The Witching hours.’ What you wouldn’t give to hear her voice right now.

And then you notice the front door. And the odd fact that it’s _open_.

As you get closer, you see the doorknob lying broken on the porch. No, no…

All you can hope for is that you’re not too late, as you practically run the rest of the way inside the house, right into the warzone that was once the house’s entry hall. Furniture was broken, there was blood splattered just about everywhere, and it was made immediately obvious that there had been strong magic used here. There was another vibe left in the room too; that of something of such massive and incredible power, that it left the place humming about long after it had left.

It took you a moment to find the light switch, so you could see the room more clearly.

Your eyes darted back and forth, taking in the black, marble-topped table against one wall that had been broken in half, and the browning splatters of blood that covered it, the white tile floor, and the white armchair lying overturned in the center of the room. The wall on one side of the room was indented and crumbling, like something fairly large had been thrown into it with great force. Something about person-sized. Next, you saw the man whom this house belonged to lying in a heap at the bottom of the spiral stairs, a shotgun still clutched in his hands.

And then… Rowena.

You knew it was her, it had to be. She was curled up on the floor; a burnt, blackened husk of a person, deformed from torture and fire. Her purse was still lying on the other marble-topped desk, covered in her blood like the rest of the room. Her phone was face-down on her chest, tossed there like a used rag. Her dress was still visible on her charred form, though it too was little more than sparkly, decorative charcoal.

You could do little more than stare, for what felt like too long. This… This can’t be happening. Rowena is your mentor; she’s the strongest, most amazing witch you’ve ever met. How could she be… How could this be?

She’s—well— _Rowena_.

She’s untouchable.

“No…” Your voice sounded distant to your own ears, and all you wanted to do at that moment was throw up. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t afford to waste time when there was still a chance you could save your Teacher, the woman you love.

You swallowed down the sick feeling in your throat, blinking away tears and trying to recall what Rowena taught you about resurrection spells. She’s died before, you knew that much, so she has fail-safes in place to bring her back from that edge. They aren’t perfect, and any of the protections and self-activating ones she may have were probably disrupted, if not entirely destroyed by the fire.

If that’s the case, then you’ll need something of her that isn’t burnt. Dried blood alone won’t work… but with a fight of this level of ferocity, perhaps there’s a chance her attacker broke off a piece of her that wasn’t burned with the rest of her.

It takes you a bit to get your thoughts in order enough to put one foot in front of the other, but once you do, the rest is easy. It’s not much of a search, in any case. One look at the desk her purse was on, and you can see a lock of blood-red hair, and attached to it, a bloody chunk of her scalp.

It wasn’t much… but with the right spell, it might be enough.

 

* * *

 

 

It had taken almost three weeks to find the right incantation and ingredients, and it hadn’t been easy to smuggle the charred remains of Rowena out of that house (you stole the rich man’s car; his keys were on the kitchen counter), but you’d done it. With all the remains you could collect, the bit of mostly undamaged skin and hair, the blood, you’d saved her.

You had to improvise a lot, so you did the spell in the bathroom, putting it all together in the apartment’s cheap shower-tub that you and Rowena only used for messing around in. There are better, easier ways for a witch to keep fresh.

All you had to do was say the words, and wait.

People aren’t meant to be brought back from the dead, so the magic fought it, and the spell was very taxing on you. You’ve had trouble before with your innate magic not listening to you before, which is why you still needed a mentor. But this time… this time you were motivated more than you’ve ever been before. Your magic fought against the spell, but you told it what’s what, got a strong handle on it, and didn’t give it an option but to perform the spell.

And… it worked. It wasn’t immediate, and you honestly just hoped that Rowena didn’t wake up until she was good as new.

When the black, dry, withered remains of her hand had healed enough to at least resemble flesh again (still covered in third-degree burns, however), you reached out and held it, not wanting her to wake up and think she’s alone for even a second.

Her eyes were open now, and they glowed a gentle green as the druidic magic did its work.

The dress didn’t heal with her, and it crumbled away to dust as her body burned in reverse, the ash turning to muscle, which was covered by skin that was raw and pink from burns, which eventually smoothed out and became a healthy, smooth tan once more.

Her face was impossible for you to watch. Once the burns disappeared from her, you could see that whoever attacked her had practically smashed her face in. It was concave, and unrecognizable. Your heart cried out in anger and agony at the sight. All you wanted to do was find whoever did this, and watch that person— _monster_ , burn.

She didn’t awaken once during the five hours it took your magic to reconstruct her body. Her soul hadn’t returned yet, and so you waited for it to find its way back to you.

And it did; you could tell the very second that it came back to her, because she inhaled sharply, and her chest glowed white with its return. Her hand twitched in yours, and then gripped yours tightly. When she sat up, it was a fast, panicked motion, and her free hand went up to touch her temple as if she had vertigo. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a danger that no longer existed, and then settled on you.

You didn’t have time to even speak (not that you had any idea of what you could say) before she threw her arms around your shoulders and buried her head in your neck. When she spoke, it was Gaelic, which you were far from fluent in, but you recognized the phrases ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’.

You held her tight, and stroked her hair, because what else could you do? She’s always so strong, and right now she needs you. How could you possibly do anything but be here, for her?

You held Rowena through one of the worst times of her life, because she’s always been strong for you, and now it’s your chance to return the favour. Seeing her weakened didn’t lessen your opinion of her one bit. She’s human, just like you and everyone else, and you love her just as much during her worst moments as you do during her best.

You do your best to comfort her, running your fingers gently through her long, beautiful, bright red ringlets of hair, and down her bare back to help calm her. You’ve never seen her cry before, and that didn’t change. She kept her face tucked into your shoulder, and though you _felt_ her tears, you didn’t see them.

You wanted to help, some way, somehow… but you’d never seen her like this before, and you simply didn’t know _how_ to help. You must be doing something right though, because she didn’t pull away, and she was starting to calm down now. What could have possibly shaken her—the unshakeable woman—so much?

“… Y/N…” Her voice was quiet in your ear, worried like she wasn’t sure if you were really you, or if you might be angry, or disappointed in her.

Reassuringly, you leaned back a bit in order to give her a gentle kiss on one cheek, wet with tears. “I’m here, Ro… You’re safe now. Do you want to get up?” And out of the tub, you left implied; she _couldn’t_ be comfortable kneeling in it like she was.

You felt a shaky breath leave her, and then one of her arms moved up to wipe away her tears. “… Yes. Thank you, yes.” You could practically hear her mentally shaking herself, and all you wanted to do was kiss her again and tell her everything is going to be alright. She started to pull herself up, and you helped her, putting one arm around her bare waist, and your hand on the edge of the tub to brace you both while you stood.

With both of you standing, you stand a good head and a half taller than her, and while you’ve never used the word ‘small’ to describe her… now the description seemed fitting. There was a lingering fear in her eyes that really shouldn’t be there, and it _hurts_ to see her this way. _Who did this to her?_

She didn’t have to say anything for you to know what she wanted. You had a blanket folded up on the counter, knowing her dress wouldn’t be resurrected with her, and so you shook it out, and wrapped it around her shoulders for her. You couldn’t help but reach up with the corner of the blanket and dry one of her cheeks gently for her. You kissed her forehead, and when you pulled away again, she attempted to give you a grateful smile.

And, well, you know she loves it, so you don’t hesitate to scoop her up in your arms then, careful and lovingly. She tucks her head into your neck again, and you’re relieved to feel not tears, this time, but a smile pressed to your skin.

“I bought us ice cream,” you tell her softly, holding her close. “Your favourite kind. Let’s watch Witches of Eastwick again, have a whole gallon of ice cream, and then you can tell me what happened, if you want to.”

It takes her a minute to respond, but only because she prioritizes giving you a long, loving kiss first. When she does finally pull back to speak, you’re both a little breathless. “Nothing would make me happier, Y/N”

And with another kiss, and a quiet smile on both your faces, you carried her to the living room to do just that.

 

~~Happily Ever After, Amen.~~


End file.
